The quietness was deafening.

Never before in my life have I experienced a similar sensation. Oh, I've been in numerous situations in which hundreds or thousands of people stopped talking for a prayer or a moment of silence for one reason or another. Church, funerals and even sporting events. It gets quiet. Sometimes real quiet. But even when it gets "real quiet" there is some noise. An air conditioner running. Someone coughing. A plane flying over. The wind blowing through the trees. Something. Some type of background noise.

That was the case last Wednesday afternoon when the motorcade escorting the body of Marine Lance Cpl. Christopher Fowlkes made its way though the streets of Gaffney. As the first vehicles approached those lining both sides of the road, all conversation ceased. Those who came out to show their support for Fowlkes and his family stood quietly as the vehicles passed.

Some saluted. Some held flags. Tears rolled down cheeks. But no one said a word. It was quiet. Real quiet. That quiet, however, was broken by cars idling while stopped in the opposite lanes. The low hum of a jet flying high overhead was audible. As quiet as it was, there some sound.

When the last car passed, the crowd remained silent. There was some subdued conversation but most people made their way to their cars without saying a word. I remember thinking how amazing it was that so many people could be so quiet.

I also remember thinking that probably not nearly as many people would line Baker Boulevard for the funeral procession two days later on Friday.

Boy, was I wrong. Those who lined the streets Friday to pay their final respects to Lance Cpl. Fowlkes easily outnumbered those who showed up Wednesday to welcome him home.

As we waited for the funeral to end and the procession to the cemetery to begin, there was a lot of casual conversation. Young and old, black and white. People from all walks of life. Grizzled old veterans and babes in arms. Most were holding American flags. Others were holding handmade signs of sympathy and encouragement.

When oncoming traffic was stopped, the turning lane on Baker Boulevard filled up with people.

Conversations in hushed tones continued. Everyday sounds could be heard. Somewhere, a car radio blared.

Then, the police car leading the procession appeared, lights flashing. It was as if someone flipped a switch. For the next 30 minutes or so, I did not hear a sound, other than tires rolling on pavement and the motorcycles of the Patriot Riders. But even that sound was muffled.

It was eerily silent.

Like so many others who have shared their feelings with me, I felt a lump come to my throat. Part of it was for the pain the Fowlkes family was dealing with in losing Christopher. But another part was a feeling of pride in my hometown and its people. Never before have I witnessed anything that even comes close to what occurred Friday, Sept. 18, 2009. There was a coming together of this community for a common cause — we were there to pay tribute to one of our own and offer condolences to his family.

It was truly amazing and uplifting. From the letters and e-mails we have received here at The Ledger, those from other areas saw and felt the same thing.

But as fate would have it, most of the outside world hasn't heard about the thousands who lined the street that day. They haven't heard about the emotional displays of patriotism. They did not hear the quiet.

No, they heard about the flag flap. That unfortunate incident is even now dominating discussions around town. County council has joined the fray.

It's a shame. A serious mistake in judgement was made by one person and the beautiful display of support and patriotism by an entire community is brushed aside.

Me, I'm not going to let that one incident spoil a cherished memory.

Cody Sossamon (cody@gaffneyledger.com) is publisher of The Gaffney Ledger.